I used to love Christmas. Really. I don’t think anyone reading this blog would disagree with me if I immediately assume that we all have fond childhood memories of Christmas. I mean endless food, gifts, family get-togethers – what is there to not like about Christmas? Sadly though, my enthusiasm for this whole Christmas thing slowly began to wane as I got older.

I still have no idea why – maybe it has something to do with growing old, or the fact that this time I have to be the one giving gifts. I’m pretty sure it also has something to do with the mental image of a huge and overweight 27-year old guy running around gleefully, opening gifts with a huge grin on his face – that shit is traumatizing, probably because I imagined myself doing that.

Seriously though, I always thought of myself as the optimistic guy who likes all of the happy things in life – like bunnies and rainbows and unicorns and confetti (WHAT) – and seeing myself becoming increasingly pessimistic is nothing short of distressing. There has got to be more to Christmas than getting more money, blowing it on gifts and food, fatty food I’ll regret eating after I swallow (kind of like what girls feel when they’re with me- HEYOOOOOO), vacations, drunken nights and awkward mornings waking up next to a complete (not necessarily human – or living) stranger, and whining about how all of the Christmas lights all over the place is giving me epileptic seizures.

Fig. 1: Epileptic Siezure

In other words, it’s scary, the speed at which I am becoming a scrooge. I don’t want to be that guy, so I am actively going to take steps to change my entire outlook! I shall bring Christmas cheer and goodwill back by sheer willpower!

Dress the Part

Maybe if I wear something less gloomy and doesn’t say "straight out of bed into work shower optional", my mood would pick up. I have to step up in the clothing department. I have to wear something more cheerful, something that says "FUCK YOU GLOOM I AM SPEWING CHRISTMAS OUT OF MY PORES!"

Yep.

So yesterday I tried to go to work in that sweater, but every time I turn a corner, a number of people just come running towards me. You’d think they’re trying to congratulate me for getting my Christmas spirit on. They were actually threatening me with various means of a slow and painful death, for wearing a sweater that made me look like a "fruity fairy cocksucking tool."

Needless to say, I spent a good two hours that morning dodging various fists, weapons, and rocks. I only managed to get them off my back when I took off the sweater and put it on a clueless old man who was promptly swallowed by the mob, screaming and flailing for dear life.

Listen to Christmas Songs. All Day.

In an attempt to bring the Christmas cheer into every single waking moment of my life, I decided to say goodbye to all of the songs in my iPod. No, if I was going to make the most out of my Christmas spirit, I will have to make sure I am plugged-in 24/7 to music that gives me joy and cheer! I now have 2,000 Christmas songs in my iPod. Wait, I can’t find that many. More like 50.

It kinda worked when I started – I was immediately in a lighter mood by the third song. But there was something about hearing Christmas In Our Hearts for the 20th time in five hours that does things to you. I was sweating and shaking, and I snapped at people with threatening words like "THIS SEASON MAY WE NEVER FORGET THE LOVE WE HAVE FOR JESUS," “PASKO NA SINTA KO HANAP-HANAP KITA,” and "PARA KANG PAROL SA AKING BUBONG." It went like that for a few hours until I noticed the people I screamed at huddled behind a Christmas tree, whispering to each other and quickly throwing away this suspicious-looking note:

It was called “BEST CHRISTMAS EVER”

Seeing that suspicious note strewn with discarded Canon ink cartridges, I have come to the conclusion that my friends are even bigger scrooges than I am. Who the fuck hates Christmas carols?

Spreading the Love

As cheesy as it sounds, I realized that maybe these last couple of years haven’t been really easy. It pretty much jaded me, and maybe I just need to get that little spark of childlike innocence and wonder back by spreading a little love.

I went to the nearest mall, hoping to find a few stressed shoppers and having my love make their day a bit better. I found one extremely frazzled shopper sitting on a bench, a huge bag of gifts next to her. I come up to her.

“So, miss,” I asked “would you like to have some of my love?”

“Whatever it is, mister I’m not interested. I’ve had a long day and all I want is to- wait, what did you say?”

“I said,” at this point I tried to do my best Morgan Freeman impersonation, “do you want my LOOOOOVE?”

“… sir, you are a very disturbed man and I would like to ask you to stay away from me or I swear to God I will call mall security and OH MY GOD SIR DON’T TAKE OFF YOUR TRENCH COAT”

Conclusion

After spending a day in the mall security office and trying to convince the head guard that the “twelve inches of love” that I was giving to the girl was, in fact, a Toblerone bar, I have come to the conclusion that people, not Christmas, suck. They hate my Christmas sweater, my Christmas carols and jingles, and my twelve inches of black chocolatey Christmas love.

Bah, humbug. You make Christmas not worth celebrating. What is wrong with you people? I am so utterly disappointed I am going to find one of those mall Santas and tell how much you people make me sad. While sitting on his lap.